


An Excellent Idea

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Banter, Frenemies, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mutual Pining (kiiiind of), Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: “I have an excellent idea.”“Highly doubtful.”





	An Excellent Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MildredMost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/gifts).



> Happy New Year!

“I have an excellent idea.”

“Highly doubtful.”

Andrei allowed himself the liberty of an eyeroll. “Since we’re at Oranienbaum, we should have fireworks for Pyotr Fyodorovich’s birthday.’ 

“Brilliant, Gudovich. And where do you expect we might find these fireworks on such short notice? His Highness won’t appreciate anything subpar.” They weren’t _supposed_ to be at Oranienbaum in the middle of winter, but Peter had had another falling out with his aunt over the war, and, as was typical for him in such moments, gathered his suite and left for Oranienbaum in a huff, as much to get away from court as to annoy his aunt. 

All the way out in the country, in the middle of February, finding quality fireworks on a day’s notice would be extremely difficult. Not to mention that the weather was threatening to get worse. Snowstorms were not as common in Petersburg as in Moscow, but when they did happen, they were brutal, the sharp wind from the sea easily biting through multiple layers of clothing. 

“As it turns out I know just the man. He’s a bit of a recluse, oddly enough, so we’d need to travel. But if we leave, we should be able to make it back by supper. Peter is with Elizaveta Romanovna, so it is unlikely he will notice our absence.”

Brockdorff squinted, now mildly suspicious. “And, pray tell, if you know everything already, why do you need me to go with you, since, I assume, that is the reason you are telling me of this idea.”

Andrei looked a little awkward. “The person I got my information from said that this man speaks primarily a dialect of German that is native to you but I am not as well versed in. I would not want to get anything wrong.”

“Surely, living in Russia, he would know Russian or French.” 

“I was told otherwise.” 

Brockdorff scoffed. He should have known. “You’re being played for a fool.”

“No, it’s…it’s Golitsyn who told me. He wouldn’t joke like that. And I asked around here too to confirm where he lives. I think he’s simply an off fellow.”

“How does he even sell anything if all he knows is a specific German dialect?”

“God only knows, but it’s worth a try isn’t it?” Andrei gave him a look that was almost pleading. He had clearly gotten attached to this idea of his. “Just think of how happy the Grand Duke will be.” 

That was low and dishonorable of Gudovich. He knew full well Brockdorff could not say _no_ to the opportunity of making Peter smile _that_ smile, the sort he had so rarely lately with the way the war had been going. All Brockdorff had to do was imagine how Peter’s eyes would light up and the priceless expression of pure joy on his face at the prospect of one of his favorite entertainments, and Brockdorff was ready to make any trip, anywhere, in any weather. Especially at a time like this, when Peter was so plainly distraught over his fight with Elizaveta Petrovna. “I swear, Gudovich, if this is Ivan’s idea of a practical joke or some other nonse—”

“You will murder me and throw my body in the lake,” Andrei says lightly with a flippant little smile that makes Brockdorff uncomfortable somehow. “I know.”

Brockdorff rubbed a hand over his face. “Why do I let you drag me into these things?”

Andrei was still smiling. “For the love of our Prince, surely.” 

*

They went on horseback in hopes of making the trip faster and because a carriage was most likely going to get stuck in a snow drift sooner rather than later. 

“See, we can make good allies for the sake of the Grand Duke’s happiness,” Andrei said cheerfully at one point. 

“Is that what you call this? An alliance?”

Andrei shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t dare say _friendship_ to you and we’re certainly not working at cross purposes here, so…”

“Gudovich, I would gladly have an alliance with anyone I felt could benefit the Grand Duke. I’m simply not certain you’re a good choice for the job.”

Andrei was silent for a long moment, apparently stung by that assessment of his worth. “Pyotr Fyodorovich considers me a friend. He _wants_ me around, even if you don’t.” 

_Of course he wants you around,_ Brockdorff thought in exasperation. _You, with your pretty eyes, charming gestures and complete inability to tell him anything other than what pleases him. Puppies are easy to love._

__“You’re not the first person Pyotr Fyodorovich has ever liked.”

_Puppies are easy to love. As are charming, dashing courtiers, who tell fun anecdotes and make you believe that they are grateful for all you have done for them, only to them sleep with your wife and possibly father your heir._

__Gudovich and Saltykov were nothing alike, but it still did not make _affection_ a good measure for usefulness or loyalty. 

*

It was already dark when they made it to the small abode of the merchant – _or was he an artisan?_ Brockdorff wondered idly – that Andrei had been told about. A snow storm was starting up, gusts of wind blowing snow under their collars and in their faces. The horses were patently unhappy and lumbering heavily through the drifts. 

The merchant was an old, stooped man who lived in a small, humble house out of the way of the main road and not visibly connected to any village. He, indeed, spoke mostly a certain German dialect, but his selection of fireworks was indeed exquisite. Brockdorff and Andrei took some time picking out the arrangement they wanted and counting out their payment. 

As they negotiated, Brockdorff’s mood improved slightly, anticipation of the reception to their surprise overtaking his initial wariness. But this mood did not last. 

They had only been inside for perhaps twenty minutes but that had been enough for the weather to degrade entirely. The winds had picked up and a snowstorm was in full swing. It swept through the clearing and over the woods, covering every inch of earth, bush and tree in thick snowdrifts. Soon, the entire world would be white. Brockdorff felt cold just at the sight of it. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it back home in this,” he said. “We’re bound to get lost and the horses around bound to step in a pit or worse.”

“There might a be village close by where we could get an inn. I’m not certain which direction…” 

Brockdorff wondered if Andrei had enough decency to regret his decision to drag them both into this mess. Not that he didn’t go along with it—either way they were certainly not getting back by supper and their absence would surely be noticed by morning. 

Brockdorff turned to the merchant and asked him if he knew of a place they could spend the night close by. 

“Ehh…” The old man rubbed his brow, thinking. “Not anywhere you can make it in this storm. If you gentlemen want, I have a spare room. It was my son’s but he’s in the city now and the room is empty. You could spend the night there…for a small price.”

Brockdorff relayed this to Andrei, who did not find anything smarter to say than, “ _He_ has a son?”

Brockdorff avoided an exasperated eyeroll and told the merchant they would take him up on his offer. 

They were offered soup for dinner, then shown through to a small, almost entirely empty room, and relieved of their payment. As soon as the door closed behind them it became obvious why this was a much worse idea then they had originally anticipated. 

“There’s only one bed,” Brockdorff stated blankly. “A small one.” 

For a moment the two of them stood in silence as the snowstorm howled mournfully outside. 

“I suppose we’ll have to—”

“Flip a coin, yes,” Brockdorff finished, without noticing that Andrei’s expression fell slightly, as though he had been thinking something else. 

“What will the loser do?”

 

“We have two large coats. Perhaps our friend has a spare blanket or pillow.”

Andrei nodded silently as Brockdorff dug around for a coin. 

“I’ll take the floor,” Andrei said, suddenly, making Brockdorff look up. 

“This is unnecessary martyrdom. We’ll draw for it. I’d offer a game of cards if we had any with us.”

Andrei shook his head. “No, it was my idea to come here anyway. I can take responsibility for that. Also, I’m the one in active military service. I’m not a complete stranger to sleeping in suboptimal conditions.”

There was an insult somewhere in there, but Brockdorff decided that he was satisfied with the explanation that this _had_ been Andrei’s foolhardy idea, so it was only natural that he take the worst of the consequences. “Well, thank you…for saving me the trouble of finding a coin.” 

Andrei gave him an exasperated look but did not argue. “Let’s just go to bed and hope the storm settles by morning.” 

*

The merchant’s house was what might be expected of a man of his station, especially accounting for the oddity of his circumstances. The wooden walls and thin windows, though shuttered, let through a good deal of the outside cold, sending a small draft snaking across the floor of any room. Each room had a Russian oven for warmth but the merchant had not expected visitors so there was not enough kindling for the bedroom Brockdorff and Andrei had been offered for the night. They got some hot smoldering coals, but those provided more light than they did warmth. The room was drafty and somewhat chilly. 

Tired from the long trip, Brockdorff slipped briefly into a half-sleep. His thoughts wandered aimlessly through the itinerary for the next day, to how they would explain their absence, to the large arrangement of fireworks they had purchased and the excitement on Peter’s face when they will set them off. And, finally, to Andrei, who was still an idiot but at least this particular plan of his appeared to harbor good intentions. Although, that was always the way with Gudovich – good intentions made seemingly palatable by intense grey-blue eyes and no sense at all. Just like Peter, as it were. 

These last few thoughts were distressing enough to bring Brockdorff back into wakefulness. The light from the red coals gave of just enough of the faintest glow for Brockdorff to make out Andrei’s form where he had made his bed on the floor from their two large overcoats. He had scooted himself over as close to the oven as was safe, but it was probably little help. The room was drafty and that cold draft was likely worse on the floor. 

Even though coming here had been Gudovich’s idea, it still did not feel very fair. 

“Gudovich, are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Are you cold?”

“…I’m fine.”

Brockdorff could not help a smirk. “Really? Sure you don’t want that coin toss after all?”

Andrei sat up and glared at him through the dark. “What are you getting at, Brockdorff?”

Brockdorff considered goading him further but eventually decided not to. Andrei was Brockdorff’s coat, which he was using as blanket, in a way that suggested that he really was cold. It wouldn’t do for him to be ill. That would ruin everything they had planned. “Come here and bring those coats. This blanket isn’t much.”

Andrei hesitated. “We’re not going to both fit…”

“Well, not comfortably, but we’ll fit.” Comfortably, as in _not touching each other._ Because that certainly qualified as uncomfortable _and_ awkward. 

Andrei hesitated for another second before grabbing both coats and coming over. Brockdorff scooted as far toward the wall as he could. Andrei dressed down to his linens and shirt and slipped under the blanket. They arranged the two coats on top for extra warmth and fidgeted around for some time for the best position. The only way to fit was for both of them to be on their side, almost as though they were spooning. Brockdorff feared that once he fell asleep some instinct would guide him to put an arm around Andrei’s waist and pull him in closer. 

It was simply a habit – Brockdorff only really slept on his side when abed with a lover, an arm draped lazily over his or her waist. It had nothing to do with Gudovich at all. 

One good thing came out of this – they were both definitely warmer this way, what with the two overcoats and blanket, and the shared body heat. 

The bad part was that they were far too close, almost flush against each other. Brockdorff was significantly taller than Andrei but lying down they fit into each other perfectly, and Brockdorff was genuinely worried that his body could betray him. Andrei was warm and soft beside him, his hair smelling like some kind of soap or perfume. _Like a woman,_ Brockdorff thought, in hopes of dredging up the usual feeling of distaste he typically felt for Gudovich, and failing miserably. 

The room was dark and quiet and Brockdorff was even further from sleep than before. 

“Thanks,” Andrei said quietly into the dark. It was quiet and sleepy and through Brockdorff off guard for a moment. 

“Hmm? Oh, right. It’s nothing.” 

“Do you mind if I scoot back a little?”

Brockdorff could feel himself tense, involuntarily. “There isn’t really room?”

“I’m a little wary of falling off the edge here.”

“You-re not going to—agh. Here.” Brockdorff slipped one arm around Andrei’s waist and pulled him back just the tiniest bit and did not let go. In some ways, this position was a little more comfortable. _This is ridiculous._ “Better now?”

He thought he caught a bit of a sly smile in Andrei’s tone when he said, “Yes,” and then became very still. 

_I’m going to kill him tomorrow,_ Brockdorff thought. He was starting to regret his bit of sympathy earlier. How was he supposed to get any sleep when he was desperately trying to not get _too_ comfortable? It was utterly distracting to be in this position with a young, attractive military officer. 

Even if said officer was an obnoxious nuisance the rest of the time. 

Almost as though reading his thoughts, Andrei said, “You know, since we’re sharing a bed as it is…there are other things we could do to get warm…” 

Brockdorff had half a mind to give Gudovich a good shove out of said shared bed. “One more word and you’re back to sleeping on the floor.”

Andrei positively _snickered._ “I’m only joking.” 

“Right.”

Brockdorff’s face was warm and he was probably a deeper color red than he’d ever want to be. The rest of his body was slowly giving in to its natural instincts. Which was embarrassing and _unnecessary._

_If you only knew, Your Highness, to what lengths I’m willing to go for you,_ Brockdorff thought dismally.

“Goodnight,” Andrei said, sounding morbidly content. 

“Goodnight,” Brockdorff said, and thankfully, finally, fell into sleep. 

*

In the morning, Andrei was already up when Brockdorff woke up. “There’s some porridge for breakfast and the storm is over,” Andrei said cheerfully, seemingly unphased by the previous night. 

The world was a blindingly bright white on their ride back home. Andrei stayed unusually quiet and Brockdorff felt that saying anything would be misplaced. 

*

It had all been worth it in the end, even the berating they received from Peter, who had finally noticed their absence in the late morning and had been forced to wait until the mid afternoon before seeing either of them. 

The look on his face when they told him about the fireworks had been worth it. 

The fireworks were beautiful, lighting up the sky over Oranienbaum to the tipsy cheers and shouts of the Grand Duke’s suit, who took their festivities outside directly after dinner. 

Brockdorff poured himself some wine and breathed in the crisp air with a sense of self-congratulatory satisfaction. 

“Admit that I was right. This was a good idea.” 

Brockdorff did not need to turn around to know it was Andrei who had come to stand beside him. 

‘It was _reckless_ not bad.” 

“That’s the same thing to you, though.”

‘We’re lucky it worked out well.”

“Why do you pretend to dislike me?”

“I _do_ dislike you.” 

“Last night says otherwise.” 

Brockdorff turned sharply only to find Andrei looking at him with wide, luminous eyes and far too much seriousness. His coat was half open, showing the bright green of his uniform, its fur collar turned up and brushing against his face. Brockdorff had hot, intrusive flashes of the night before, of Andrei body pressed against his, the taunt muscles of his abdomen inviting under Brockdorff’s arm. _He’s too attractive; it isn’t fair._ Andrei’s adam’s apple bulged slightly as he took a long drink of wine and Brockdorff swallowed too, his mouth suddenly dry. “Last night was…” 

“What?”

“Unfortunate.”

Something fell in Andrei’s expression, a mild, perhaps expected, disappointment. “If you say so.” He turned to leave but Brockdorff reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him. For a moment, he wasn’t certain why he had done it. 

“It was a good idea,” he said. “Peter is overjoyed. It’s all I could have asked for.” 

A small smile curved the edges of Andrei’s mouth, making his dimples show. He tip-toped up and brushed his lips against Brockdorff cheek. Then, flushing like a schoolboy, he ducked his head and rushed off, leaving Brockdorff a little stunned. 

For a moment, he considered going after Andrei, pulling him behind a bush and snogging him senseless. No one would notice and he could probably write it off as far too much celebratory alcohol. But then, coming to his sense, Brockdorff decided to not do anything rash and foolish. 

After all, they had years ahead of them, did they not, to figure it all out?


End file.
